Family, Duty, Honor
by thelittlegnome
Summary: What if Lysa Tully was able to keep her unborn baby? How would this event change the course of her life, as well as the lives of others?
1. Promises

"Lysa!"

Having Catelyn chase after her was the last thing the younger Tully sister wanted. Lysa continued to storm down the corridors of Riverrun, shoving doors open and cursing under her breath. She could almost hear her perfect older sister scolding her. _Lysa, how could you? Lysa, what have you done? Lysa!_

"Lysa, for goodness sake!" Catelyn shouted. "Just stop right there!"

Lysa did. She could not run forever. Sooner or later, Catelyn would corner her and interrogate her. Running would also be detrimental to the growing child in her womb.

"Yes, yes..." Lysa groaned, turning to glare at her sister. "I know what you are going to say! _How could I lie with Petyr? How could I lose my maidenhead to a man I am not married to?_ Just leave me alone, alright?!"

It satisfied the younger sister to see Catelyn shocked at her behaviour. Lysa knew that she was not known for her extroverted personality. Occasionally, it offended her. Older lords and ladies liked to patronise her like a little doll, whereas when it came to Catelyn, they respected her. And why would they not? She stood tall and made interesting conversations with everyone around her.

"That was not what I was going to say," Catelyn said.

"Then, what were you going to say?" Lysa's temper was yet to dissipate. "I know you. You strut about this place like a princess, and when you hear about people doing things that you do not approve of, you look at them as if they no more than common whores!"

"That is not true!" Catelyn's voice was starting to rise. "I admit that I can be judgemental, but that is not why I am here." She paused. "I came to ask... why did you not tell me sooner?"

Lysa cooled slightly, not expecting such a gentle question. "W-what?"

"I heard about what father was trying to do."

The younger sister's face softened. Rumours about her pregnancy circled the castle. She had once overheard the cooks gossiping and giggling about her soiled state. Lysa had not predicted that Catelyn would hear about Lord Hoster Tully's orders.

"He was the first person to notice that my stomach was showing," she confessed. "He demanded who the father was, and I told him. When he gave me moon tea, I smashed the cup against the wall. I was already months along. In fact, I am currently six months along. I could not... I could not let him kill my child. _Petyr's_ child."

Catelyn nodded as she spoke, understanding. "I wish you told me. I could have helped you."

Lysa stared, bewildered. "You... you would?"

"Do you not remember the words of House Tully? _Family, Duty, Honor._ Family comes first, and I would never force my sister to abort her baby. After all, you are carrying my nephew."

Lysa broke into a smile, and sighed in gratitude. "Or niece," she added. "We'll have to wait until the birth. Oh, Catelyn, I may have sinned but I am ever so excited to have this baby."

Catelyn held out her hand and escorted Lysa down to the godswood, where the latter had tried to escape before the confrontation. The two sisters brushed past tall grasses and balanced themselves on the rocky pavement. In front of the heart tree stood a stone bench. Lysa set herself down on the sculpture and rubbed the roundness of her belly.

"Strange..." Lysa murmured.

"Strange?" Catelyn repeated.

"This time next week, we'll be married."

"Oh, yes. It does feel quite strange. Neither of us will be able to live here anymore."

"I wish I did not have to leave," Lysa admitted. "I want to stay here with my baby."

"As do I. But soon, I will be in Winterfell with Lord Stark."

"And I will be in The Eyrie, trapped with an old man."

Catelyn looked up across the godswood and flicked her eyes down at her sister. "Lysa, do not call him that..."

"But it's true! You are lucky that you are betrothed to a man your age. I have to marry an old man!"

Upon finishing that sentence, Lysa heard a presence shuffling towards her. She turned to find her father accompanied by another man. She blanched. She had completely forgotten that Jon Arryn was to visit her today. Hoster Tully was not impressed by her outburst. He crossed his arms and glared at her.

"I was trying to warn you," Lysa heard Catelyn whisper to her.

"Catelyn," their father commanded. "Could you please go back to the castle? I would like a word with Lysa."

Catelyn bowed and walked past the heart tree, turning back once to show concern.

"Lysa," Lord Tully began. "You have met Lord Arryn."

"Yes, father," Lysa replied.

"He would like to have a word with you in private. I expect you to be on your best behaviour."

The last sentence sounded like a threat, yet if it were less patronising, Lysa would be mildly intimidated. Luckily, her father was not a violent man. But Lord Tully carried a stern look everywhere when he was unhappy.

He excused himself and followed Catelyn's trail, leaving Lysa alone with this elderly lord. Jon Arryn stood tall for his age, but his wrinkled face and pale complexion betrayed him. The man took a step towards her and kneeled at her feet.

"Lady Tully," Lord Arryn greeted. "You have grown since the last time I saw you."

They had met just two years before, only briefly. Lysa and Lord Arryn had been introduced to each other, before her father sent her away to play with Petyr in her mother's beloved garden.

"It has been a while, my lord," Lysa did her best to sound sincere.

"Please, call me Jon." The man said. He was still kneeling, but he looked up at her with attentive eyes. "We are to be married soon."

She shuddered at the thought, but kept her posture. "Yes, Jon."

"My lady, may I call you Lysa?" He asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Lysa, I know that you are not keen for this marriage, and I am very sorry to hear that. You are right, though; I am long past my prime. And with you being a young lady, I know that I am not what you wish me to be. But I will make you a promise."

For a moment, Lysa felt sorry for this man. Her outburst had been no short of disrespectful to Lord Arryn, a person of experience. She waited for him to define his promise.

"I promise to look after you. I will never raise a hand to hurt you and I will ensure that you are safe and healthy. You will be my lady and rule alongside me in The Vale."

"Thank you, my lord. I mean, Jon," Lysa corrected herself. "I appreciate your kindness, but I must ask you to make one more promise." She took a breath and reached for her belly. "Do you promise that I will be able to watch my child grow, and that he or she will be well-attended to?"

"Yes, Lysa. I was about to mention your babe. He or she may be a natural child, but I will take good care of it as if it were my own."

She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of a lie. When she could not find anything suspicious, Lysa released a silent sigh. The young Tully could not help but cry in relief.

She had heard of men so determined to rid of their women's bastard that they slayed their wives. Jon Arryn may have been a disappointment to have to marry, but she knew he spoke true.

"I lost a child myself when I was younger," he explained. "I do not wish to have you experience the same tragedy. Here, take this, my lady." He handed her a handkerchief, and Lysa proceeded to wipe her face.

"Thank you," she wept. "I would not know what to do if he took my child away from me."

Jon knew who "he" was. "Your father thought he was doing right by you," he said. "He had informed me of your situation not too long ago. I did not just come here to visit my betrothed; I came to tell him not to harm the child."

Lysa cried even harder, her thankful tears rushing down her cheeks. "Truly? Oh, Lord Arryn... Jon... thank you..."

The man reached for her hand and shushed her gently.

"Don't cry, Lysa. Everything will be just fine."


	2. The Eyrie

A girl was born in The Eyrie, bringing joy to Lysa Arryn. She cradled the babe in her arms and admired every feature that mesmerised her.

The girl looked exactly like Lysa when she was younger. Its thin eyebrows and long eyelashes were sculpted like her mother's. What stunned Lysa the most was her face shape; it was an exact replica of hers. The only difference was the hair; it shone dark like her father's.

Jon returned to The Eyrie after three months. The war had ended on a sad story; Robert had lost his beloved Lyanna at the Tower of Joy. Her dying body had been found by her brother, who was now Lysa's brother by marriage. She had not seen Eddard or Catelyn since their joint wedding ceremony.

Lysa's babe was sitting up against her cot when Jon entered her nursery. He found his wife sitting on a stool and talking excitedly at the young girl before she noticed her husband's presence. The man still wore chainmail and was holding a steel helmet to his side. Lysa grinned at him in surprise.

"Jon!" She exclaimed. "You wrote that you would not arrive until the afternoon."

"I wanted to arrive here as soon as I could," Jon said, before smiling. "And good morning to you, Lysa."

He placed his helmet on a nearby shelf before walking up to the cot. He peered down at the child in curiosity and removed his gauntlets to touch her tiny hand.

"She is beautiful," he commented. "Have you given her a name yet?"

"I have," Lysa said. "Her name is Minisa, after my mother."

"A good choice of name. It suits her wonderfully."

The child giggled happily at this strange man. He tickled her stomach and she fell down into the cot laughing. Lysa joined in the giggling and picked up her daughter. Bouncing the babe on her lap, her sun-filled smile slowly drained from her lips. Her face sunk to the floor in worry.

"She will be a Stone," Lysa murmured. "Minisa Stone. I fear that the world will treat her as such, but I cannot protect her from everything."

Jon pulled up another stool and placed it next to Lysa's. He sat beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder.

"Robert has appointed me as his hand. Have I told you that?"

"Yes, Jon," Lysa replied. "And he wishes for us to move to King's Landing."

"We will not have to move for another month, fortunately." He said. "I will be horribly occupied once we arrive, but before we leave, I may be able to do another favour for you."

"A favour?"

"You see, I recall you expressing those concerns to me before I left. And I could tell that your child's welfare meant much more to you than anything else. If you would like me to legitimise Minisa, then I can..."

"Legitimise?" Lysa interrupted, the word reflecting a tone of pleasant surprise. "But, you cannot legitimise her as an Arryn, can you? I mean, she has to be related to you by blood."

"I cannot legitimise her an as Arryn, but I can legitimise her as a Tully."

Lysa sat stunned, almost forgetting that she was holding a baby. "I did not know that you could do that. Is it... can you do that?"

"There is nothing in the law that states that you cannot legitimise the baby using a name from the mother's side of the family. As far as it is concerned, if the child is related to a lord of even the most modest standing, it can be legitimised with the lord's permission. In this case, Minisa is related to your father, Lord Hoster Tully."

The babe was placed back into her cot, having fallen asleep on her mother's shoulder. Lysa stared at Jon and listened attentively.

"I have been given permission from your father to gift her with the Tully name. Unless if you have any objections, Minisa will not have to live as a Stone."

Without thinking, Lysa threw her arms around Jon, who grunted in mild discomfort. She immediately apologised for her sudden movement and laughed.

"Oh, Jon!" She clapped her hands. "I have no objections. Thank you! It would mean the world to me!"

"I want my wife to be happy," Jon said, taking her hand in his. "It brightens me so to see you smile. Our marriage may not be one of love, but I feel as though we have become good friends. Do you find that so, Lysa?"

Lysa thought on the matter. The man had been kind to her since before their marriage. She still thought of Petyr and missed the way he held her, but Lord Hoster Tully would not dare to allow such a union. He had hoped to marry her to Jaime Lannister, and even Lysa hoped to at least marry someone her age. But the boy fled for the Kingsguard as if she had been the old man.

Even if Jaime had decided to marry her, the young Tully could not have been sure of his habits. Perhaps he had a foul temperament; he might have joined her father in a campaign to poison her baby. The Lannisters were known to be proud.

"Yes, Jon," Lysa finally agreed. "You have been very good to me. I have enjoyed our warm conversations together. I am sorry that I cannot love you, but I know that my daughter will forever be safe with you."

"You do not have to be sorry," Jon assured, squeezing her hand. "Arranged marriages are never easy, I can tell you. Although it may never happen, I will always hope that you will view me as more than just a friend."

Lysa placed her other palm on top of his, now fully enveloping his lone hand.

"I am sure that our marriage will be a blessed one," Lysa stated. "With or without love."

"It will," Jon said. "Perhaps, when you are ready, we can provide Minisa with siblings. Not only will Minisa have companions, but you and I could have more to bond on."

Lysa had yet to be bedded by Jon, and it worried her. She had known what was to come after birthing Minisa. Fortunately, she and her husband had slept in the same bed many times before. He never forced her or made any lewd advances; he just talked to her until they both felt the effects of drowsiness.

The concept of the bedding still worried her, yet her heart warmed at the thought of more beautiful children. Minisa would not grow alone, and Lysa already loved the idea of playing with a few more rambunctious little lords and ladies. Perhaps, life could be wonderful with Jon Arryn.

"The maester said that I will need another two months to heal," she said. "Until then, I will be looking forward to having more children."

Somehow, the two found themselves embracing each other. Neither knew which one was the instigator, but they both knew that the gesture was warm, and that there would be more to come.

* * *

That night, The Eyrie received a raven. Before Lysa could head to her chambers, Maester Colemon handed her a letter, addressed to her. The lady frowned suspiciously at her name written on the parchment.

"Who would be writing to me?" She asked herself when the maester walked out of sight. The Starks had written to congratulate her on Minisa's birth, three months ago. So did King Robert. Even her father wrote a short letter, merely stating that he had heard of the child's existence.

She tore at the seal and pulled out the folded parchment. As she unfolded it, she discovered the letter's lengthy contents.

_Dearest Lysa,_ it read.

_I hope that you are well. I congratulate you on your marriage to Lord Arryn._

_Although it pained me when your father forced me out of Riverrun, it has since provided me the strength to rise among the ranks. I have since established several businesses, all of which have been highly successful._

_I have written to ask you if The Eyrie has any need of a collector. I can assure you that I have a talent when it comes to finances. In terms of coin, I can bring the Vale twice as much as any other collector you may encounter. Even if there are no positions, I implore you to tell Lord Arryn of my achievements, for I will be successful and it will bring me closer to you._

_I have thought about you ever since I left. You have been the one who has loved me and encouraged me, unlike the many who have belittled me. You are the one who has driven me to become the man I am today. Perhaps, one day, House Baelish will rise even higher. The Baelishes and the Arryns could unite one day and become an unstoppable force._

_Sweet Lysa, nothing would please me more than to see your lovely face again. I hope that you have missed me as much as I have missed you. Please write back as soon as you can. I would be excited to hear from you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Petyr Baelish._

Lysa leapt up and down, holding his words to her chest. If she could see her love once more, she would die a happy woman. All she had to do was tell her husband about Petyr's immediate success. Surely, Jon would not refuse her. The Eyrie was also in need of a new collector.

Before she could run to Jon, Minisa's cries alerted her. The lady quickly stuffed the letter into her pocket. Lysa rushed to the nursery to discover her daughter awake and active. Minisa hollered and rolled around in her wooden cot, begging for attention. Quickly but gently, Lysa picked her up and cooed at her. The baby's cries slowly faded and she began to giggle with her mother.

The letter, meanwhile, would become forgotten. Until another time, Lysa would recall changing out of that dirty dress and handing it to the maid, who handed it to the washerwoman.


	3. King's Landing

The first word that came to her upon arriving at King's Landing was "people". Lysa could not remember if she had ever seen so many men and women bustling in one area. Once upon a time, the overcrowding would have frightened her. Yet watching the commoners engaging in various activities fascinated her.

She had spent days, perhaps weeks in the modest shelter they called a carriage. Minisa could not keep away from the windows, imitating her mother's curiosity. Merchants sold all kinds of fruit in makeshift stalls and bartered with unrelenting customers. Lysa noticed a girl, no older than ten, who dragged a wagon filled with exotic shellfish. When men without coin crawled up behind her and tried to steal a clam, she spun around and whipped their knuckles with amazing precision.

For a city run by a king, the place was a dump. Lysa wondered what kind of king Robert Baratheon was if he could not even feed the poor. Children with barely covered bones roamed the alleys, begging strangers for food or coin. She thanked the gods that Minisa did not have to live the life of a street child.

After climbing various hills and passing kinder streets, the carriage came to a stop. Jon opened the carriage door and offered Lysa his hand.

"We have arrived," he announced to mother and child. Minisa seemed to understand, for she chattered away excitedly.

Supported by Jon, Lysa stepped out onto the stone ground, still clutching her baby. She took in a breath of air; air that smelt fresher than it did minutes before. With wide eyes, she took in the sight of the Red Keep. Her husband had told her about the sheer size of the castle, yet she did not expect to be intimidated by its height. Its gigantic red stone walls towered over everything else, making Lysa feel like a child again.

On the steps stood Robert Baratheon, along with a number of accompanying guards and soldiers. Like the Red Keep, the king was tall. Perhaps the castle had been too big to house all the previous kings, Lysa silently joked to herself. Robert's muscles were coated with fine armour, and a new sword hung on his hip.

"Jon!" The king greeted, stretching out his arms. "What took you so long?"

Jon laughed and stiffly hugged his former ward. "Robert! My sincerest apologies, the road has been rough with us."

The two men released each other. Jon turned to Lysa and the child and beckoned them to come closer. Robert recognised her immediately.

"Lady Tully," he beamed, taking her hand and bowing before her. "It is good to see you again."

"Your Grace," Lysa replied. "It is good to see you too."

"You look even more radiant as you did at your wedding."

Lysa blushed. She had been carrying Minisa inside her at the time. The stares of a hundred lords and ladies nearly brought her to tears as she walked down the aisle with her father. Worse yet, a woman at the front of the crowd had the audacity to speak out loud.

"I hope Lord Arryn has not lost his sight," she said to her fellow ladies. "He will not be able to see what a big whore his wife-to-be is."

Before any of them could laugh, Jon moved away from the septon and threw her a dangerous look.

"I have _not_ lost my sight, thank you very much!" He bellowed at the lady, whose blood drained from her face. "Lady Tully has the courage of a thousand knights, unlike you! If you dare to say such obscene things about my betrothed again, I will have you removed from this hall!"

Jon's act of chivalry had since stayed with Lysa. She could not deny that the many things he did were all for her. She smiled back at Robert Baratheon, who waited for her response.

"I hope I do look better than I did then, your Grace," Lysa said. "I do not fancy walking around looking like a peach."

Before she realised her potential impropriety, the king roared with laughter. His fellow men let off a grin, a few of them copying Robert's display of amusement. Even Jon joined in, wrapping an arm around his embarrassed wife.

"Oh, Lysa," Jon sighed. "I am sure that even if you did look like a peach, your Grace would admire your beauty all the same."

"He speaks true, my lady," Robert heartily agreed. "I can see that you have taken great care of yourself since the birth of your daughter. Speaking of which..." The king pointed to Minisa, who was clinging onto Lysa's arm. "Will you introduce me to this lovely young lady?"

"Certainly, your Grace," Lysa cheerily said. "This is Minisa Tully."

"Tully?" The king was amazed. "She most certainly looks like one. Everything from the eyes to the face!" _But the hair_, Lysa could almost hear him say. When he reached forward to shake Minisa's hand, the babe buried her face into her mother's shoulder.

"My apologies," Lysa began. "She can be very shy around-"

"No need to apologise!" Robert exclaimed, still in a lively mood. "I know how children can be. Oh, let us go inside! The three of you must be exhausted from your journey."

* * *

Nearly ten moons later, a boy was born in King's Landing. Jon cried with joy as he held a healthy Robert Arryn in his arms. Lysa had never seen him look so happy.

Minisa leapt up onto the bed and begged her father to let her hold her brother. She was not yet old enough to understand that Jon Arryn did not father her, but she loved him all the same. And Jon loved her too.

"Here, Nisa," Jon had taken to calling her that. "Be careful, and do not forget to support his head."

After a few days worth of resting, Lysa became well enough to venture out into King's Landing once again. Every lord and lady began to talk to her, forgetting about the circumstances of Minisa's birth. Her maid, Shara adored her. She was of the same age as Lysa, thus they became sisterly companions.

Then weeks after young Robert's birth, Lysa and Shara ventured too far, ending up in the less attractive region of the city. The lady had never seen a brothel until an almost nude woman appeared from an alleyway. The silk she wore could barely be considered a dress, as her thighs showed and her breasts were almost fully exposed.

The lady Arryn decided to turn around and walk back to where they came from. Shara whispered in agreement and spun on her heels. Before Lysa could take another step, she heard a voice that jolted her to a stop.

"Hello, Lysa."

She turned to face a man who had appeared next to the nearly nude woman. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the familiarity of his face.

"Petyr!" She cried, before remembering that her maid was with her. "What are you doing here?"

"I own this street," he coolly stated. "As I have for the past year."

Lysa looked around in shock. This place looked no better than the slums. A few silk curtains and canvas shades could not hide the dullness of the buildings.

"You are joking," Lysa claimed, but when his face did not twitch, she froze.

"Did you not receive my letter, Lysa?"

"I did. But, Petyr... this is sinful!"

"But a thriving business," he said. "Men are always willing to pay for the pleasure they never receive at home."

Her breath grew heavy. Her heart was on the verge of breaking. Despite their last physical encounter, she thought Petyr had more honor than that. She glanced at the immodestly dressed woman, then back to him.

"Do you... sleep with them?"

Petyr still held a face of stone.

"Why did you write me?" She demanded. _Sweet Lysa..._ He had written. _I hope that you have missed me as much as I have missed you._ She felt the lies creeping up on her, and it made her sick.

"To maintain a good business, you need good connections," he said. "I was hoping that you and your husband could lend me a hand. But you did not reply, so I assumed that you wanted nothing more to do with me. No matter, I sought for connections elsewhere."

"So... so, you used me!" She forgot that Shara was with her. "You never loved me at all!"

"Since when did I ever say that I did?" Petyr still stood calm, angering her even further.

"Our first time together! I gave you my maidenhead! Even when you called me 'Cat', I still loved you!"

Finally, a look other than calmness sketched his face. "I never called you Cat. I remember my last fortnight at Riverrun very well; I never did such a thing."

"Not during the last fortnight!" Lysa was yelling. "After my sister rejected you, I came into your chamber to give you comfort. You took my maidenhead there! Do you not remember?"

She saw something stir in Petyr's brain. His eyes flickered about, then they stopped, looking into the distance. Lysa began to unravel the truth, discovering it alongside her former lover.

"You thought I was my sister!" She gasped.

"No..." Petyr stammered. "I made love to Cat! It was Cat!"

"No, it was not. You took my maidenhead before Brandon Stark came to Riverrun, and you gave me a child after he left."

He did not appear to hear her. "I... I never lay with Cat?"

Lysa covered her eyes with her palm in a futile attempt to contain her rage. "By the gods, you are a fool. How could you have mistaken me for her?!"

Petyr was still adrift in his fantasy world. His eyes were now focused on the ground, as if his dreams had been shattered. He fell to his knees, and the whore rushed to his side.

She could not stand another moment with this man. Her childhood friend had become a stranger. A disgusting stranger. Recalling her two children, the young lady took a slow step away from the man and the whore. Lysa beckoned for Shara to follow her, and the two women fled from the brothels.


	4. Loss

After fleeing from the brothels, Lysa poured all of her feeling out to Jon, who had been worried about her prolonged absence. He had seated himself on their bed when she burst in and tried to hold back her tears. The man handed her a clean cloth and commanded her to cry.

"Do not hold back your feelings, dear." He whispered. "It is only you and me in this chamber."

Surely enough, Lysa spent nearly the next hour telling the story of her and Petyr Baelish. Her voice varied between fury and sadness, but Jon stayed still, listening intently. She confessed her old love for Lord Tully's ward despite his obsession with Catelyn. He had left her with an unborn Minisa and set up a series of whorehouses close to the Red Keep.

"And there was a letter," Lysa mentioned. "He had written in the hope that he would be able to serve House Arryn. He claimed that he sought a position, so he could be close to me, but I know now that all he ever wanted was to be a high-standing lord." She paused. "Perhaps, he thought he could woo Catelyn if he rose above his rank. After reading the letter, I had forgotten about it, and it disappeared in the washroom."

Jon nodded, taking her hand in his. She could not recall how she ended up on the bed next to him, after raving around the chamber like a madwoman.

"I am sorry that you had to suffer such heartache," he consoled. "And I thank you for telling me, for I have met this man before."

Lysa jolted and held his hand tighter. "You have?" She inquired. "When?"

"A few months before our son was born. Robert Baratheon had gone to hunt, as usual. It was another one of those days when he left me to do all of his courtly work. Have you noticed that he has been hunting a lot since his marriage to Cersei Lannister?"

Indeed, Lysa had noticed. Cersei carried a permanent scowl on her face, and all the king wanted to do was move away from her. Lysa could have been wrong, but the queen often looked as though she wanted to kill the king.

"They loathe each other," Lysa gossiped.

"If I had known that they would be so cold to each other, I would have reconsidered arranging such a union. No matter; the queen is expecting a child." Jon loosened his grip. "Resuming our previous conversation, a man by the name of Petyr Baelish approached me in the Great Hall."

_I would have been sewing or chatting with the other ladies,_ Lysa thought. Her third pregnancy consisted of being kept away from the court. For her own safety, some men claimed, but Lysa could not understand how a few debating men could harm her child.

"I asked the man his occupation," Jon continued. "He alleged that he was the owner of several new-found businesses. He was searching for a position, here, in the Red Keep. I could not deny that the man was clever when it came to coin, but when I discovered what his 'businesses' were, I had him escorted out of the hall. He must have met up with the king afterwards, for I have since heard rumors that Robert frequents those places."

"Thank the gods," Lysa breathed. "I never wish to see him again."

"You will not have to. My mind is still sharp and I know what he looks like. If he ever sets foot in the hall again, I will have him exiled from the Red Keep."

* * *

"Catelyn!"

Five moons after the Baelish incident, Lysa beamed at the familiar arrivals. Catelyn and her husband had ridden up to the castle's steps and dismounted. The two women immediately rushed to each other and hugged like old friends.

"Lysa, it has been too long," Catelyn greeted, before moving away to carefully observe her little sister. "You look wonderful! Have you grown taller?"

"Not as far as I know. Oh, Cat, I am so glad that you are here in King's Landing!"

In the carriage that followed, a middle-aged septa reached in and pulled out a boy, wrapped in a blanket. Lysa had yet to meet her nephew. Catelyn had talked persistently about her son in her letters, wishing for Lysa's children and her children to become the best of friends.

The septa passed the baby onto Catelyn, who in turn, gave the baby to Lysa. He was small, red-faced and squalling, but he was strong and full of life. Lysa could not help but squeal in delight, as if holding a newborn kitten.

"Hello, Robb!" Lysa cooed. "Your mother has told me a lot about you."

The Starks had arrived just in time for dinner. King Robert had his cooks prepare a feast that consisted of boar with apple sauce, duck sausages, lamprey pies and roast potatoes. Unfortunately (but fortunately for everyone), the queen claimed to be ill and retreated to her chamber. Lysa could not help but notice that Jaime Lannister was similarly absent.

Her belly became a swell once again. Lysa wondered if the gods would ever bless her with twins. One could only hear so much about how siblings born on the same day share the same smiles and frowns. Cersei and Jaime were oddly close though, she thought. Surely, twins had to contrast with each other at some point; but the Lannister twins were always together, in public and in the confines of their chambers.

Midway through the feast, she felt a jab. Her hand touched her belly, but the pain subsided. Lysa whispered to Jon to excuse herself. Before she could take a step, a stabbing pain pushed her to the floor.

A loud groan tore from her throat and Jon bent to her side. The sounds of chatter in the hall became gasps of worry. Lysa tried to stand, to announce to everybody that she was fine, but her womb was splitting open.

Her eyes began to blur, and the conversations turned into noise. Darkness reached her and she fell into Jon's arms.

* * *

She remembered the pain. She remembered the blood rushing out from her body and staining the clear white sheets that Grand Maester Pycelle had prepared for her. He told her to be calm and to steady her breathing, but Lysa could only occasionally comply. Knowing the fate of her third child brought her nothing but tears and hysteria.

It took forever to lose her baby, or so Lysa felt. She lapsed in and out of consciousness before the Grand Maester woke her up a final time. A novice stood nearby, attempting to avoid eye contact. He fiddled with his hands as he attempted to overcome his nerves. But Lysa did not need to be told; her baby was gone.

As she experienced a trembling fever, the door opened. She felt another man beside her, stroking her hair and whispering her name.

"I am so sorry, Jon," she cried. "I am so sorry..."

"Shh..." Her husband soothed. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I should have taken better care of myself. I could have..."

"No, Lysa. These things happen. It is not uncommon, even for young ladies such as yourself. I am just glad that you are fine."

"I do not feel fine, Jon," Lysa murmured. "I feel so empty."

"Feel all you want, my dear. Do not blame yourself. We still have many years to come."

Lysa sniffed and wiped her eyes, but the tears still came. "And if we do not produce any more children? What will happen then?"

"Then we will be thankful for having two strong children," Jon replied, smiling at her. "Little Robert is healthy and almost ready to crawl, while Minisa is running around the Red Keep as we speak."

The young mother smiled at the thought of her two children. Their innocence lit her life when times became dark. Minisa was already beginning to rebel against everyone around her, including Lysa.

"Oh, Jon," she sighed. "Will you not wish for more heirs?"

"I do not wish anymore," he said. "I am grateful to the gods for whatever they give me; and they have given me a robust young son. Minisa may not be my heir, but I admire the beauty and strength that she has acquired from her mother."

Long ago, Lysa had known that she could never love Jon. A fire would not burn as bright as it had when she was with Petyr, but she was content. Jon had become her closest companion. Secretly, she even dreaded the day he would pass on. A man could love his children no better than Lord Arryn could, and Lysa may be handed to another strange man. Instead of a gentle, affectionate father, her children may endure hateful outbursts and violent attacks from their new guardian.

At sixteen, Lysa held onto her husband, frightful of the day that Jon would be lost to old age.


	5. Revelations

During Lysa's nineteenth name day, she was surprised with the easy birth of Elyse Arryn. Grand Maester Pycelle stood astounded next to the birthing bed. After Lysa's public miscarriage, he had warned Lord Arryn that producing another child could have fatal consequences. The couple tried in secret, but there was no sign of another baby. Three years passed when Lysa discovered that her moonblood was missing.

Young Robert immediately loved his new sister, for he was no longer the youngest. He had already begun to train in basic sword play, and wished nothing more than to be taken seriously. Under Sandor Clegane's instruction, he displayed balance and incredible speed. Although the two were of the same age, Robert was more serious than Prince Joffrey, who merely assumed that he was naturally strong and smart.

Initially, the prince's sworn shield terrified Lysa. The young man had recently been appointed for his immense strength and held an unwavering dedication in protecting the Baratheons. He wore the most gruesome scars on the right side of his face, which exposed a few glimpses of his cheekbone. His eternal glare brought even more fear to Lady Arryn, for he appeared to despise all around him.

That was what she had believed until one day. Weeks before Elyse's birth, Lysa stood on a balcony to watch Robert's lesson with Sandor Clegane. Surprisingly, nobody else was present in that part of the keep. Down on the ground, two wooden swords parried and struck each other.

All appeared well until Robert took a step back onto a loose rock and tumbled onto his bottom. Clegane dropped his weapon and moved to the boy's side. Lysa almost turned to rush to her son's aid, yet curiosity kept her eyes fixated on the two males. Robert scrunched his face and looked down on the ground.

"Don't cry now, lad," Clegane commanded.

"I am not crying," Robert claimed, but the tremble in his voice was unmistakable.

"Come on, on yer feet!" The man took Robert's hand and pulled him up onto his feet. "There you are! Just wipe the dirt off yer pants and you're ready again."

The tears that formed in Robert's eyes never fell, and he patted the back of his pants.

"Thank you, Sandor," the boy said. Lysa flinched. She had known that Clegane was intolerant of being called "ser", but she had least expected her son to address the man by his first name.

"It's no trouble, lad," Clegane shrugged. "Just remember that whenever you fall, get up on yer feet as quick as you can. If you stay on the ground, your enemies will get you."

Robert paused for a moment, then he murmured something that Lysa could not decipher.

"What did ye say, lad?" Clegane appeared not to hear either.

The boy hesitated. "I wish... you were my big brother."

That moment became the first time Lysa had seen the non-ser express a look apart from anger, or gruffness. The tall, hulking man stood stunned. He stared at Robert for at least a few seconds before reaching up to scratch his scalp, as if he was forced to answer a confusing question.

"I know you like Prince Joffrey the most," Robert said. "But I like fighting with swords... with _you_."

Clegane's eyes were still wide with bewilderment. Then, for a moment, Lysa thought she saw him twitch a smile. The man walked to a nearby log and sat himself down.

"Come," he directed to the boy. "Sit."

Robert did as he was told and sat next to the man who was five times his size. He stared at his feet, possibly embarrassed to face the Hound after his confession.

"Let me tell you a secret," Clegane said, staring down at Robert. "Prince Joffrey is a little shit."

Lysa's hand flew to her mouth, shocked at the Hound's profanity; particularly in front of her young son. She almost let out a loud gasp, before quickly realising that any noise might alert the two males of her presence.

"But don't tell anyone." The man smiled, very gently. "And don't go around cursing like I did; I shouldn't have done that. I would hate to see my favourite boy get into trouble."

Robert beamed up at the Hound. "I am your favourite?" He asked, bouncing up and down slightly.

"Yes, but we cannot be brothers, as much as I enjoy the thought."

"Do you have any brothers, Sandor?"

The man sat awfully still for a while. Lysa knew the answer to Robert's question; Sandor had a brother, but the two did not see eye to eye. When she thought on the matter, Gregor Clegane was actually more terrifying than his younger brother. Rumours had circulated about the knight's lust for murder and rape.

"No," Sandor finally said.

Robert must have sensed his discomfort, for he rushed back to pick up his wooden sword and jumped to his feet.

"Come on," Robert called out. "Let's fight again!"

Sandor smiled and rejoined his little companion.

* * *

Seven days after Elyse's birth, Lysa approached Jon with a stack of books that appeared to weigh a few stones. Up in the Tower of the Hand, Lord Arryn was scribbling on a short strip of parchment when the lady entered the room without knocking. She dropped the books onto his writing desk, heavy in breath.

"Lysa!" Jon exclaimed, surprised at her appearance. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Jon," she panted. "I have held suspicions for a few years now. To ensure that my suspicions were valid, I took to the library and read as many books as I could find about the previous kings and queens."

Lord Arryn observed her quivering frame and brought his hand up under his chin. "Go on."

"Many believe that Prince Joffrey and Princess Myrcella are the offspring of King Robert and his queen. I had long noticed that the two children look like Queen Cersei, but hold no traits from the king himself. I had also noticed that the queen spends an unnecessary amount of time with her brother. Honestly, I was surprised that nobody else seemed to share my observations. After reading every one of these books, I have come to the conclusion that the crown prince and the princess are not of Robert's blood. They are a product of incest, between Cersei and Jaime Lannister!"

Jon stood from his desk, fury glinting his eyes. For a moment, Lysa thought he was moving to strike her. Instead, he marched to the open door and barred it shut.

"In case if anybody might be listening." He stated, as if answering Lysa's silent question on what he was doing. He moved away from the door and stood face-to-face with his wife.

"That is a very serious accusation," Jon spoke softly. "But I believe you."

"Had you noticed as well?" Lysa asked.

"Somewhat. The children should have dark hair like their father's, but they do not. As soon as I observed this, I forgot about it. I have been so awfully busy that it escaped my mind. That is, until now."

"Jon, what are we going to do? We cannot possibly tell the king without infuriating him. What if... what if he does not believe us?"

"He _will_ believe us. He will believe me; I will be the one to tell him."

"The king will be furious. It will cause quite a scandal."

"There is no denying that Robert Baratheon will be angered," Jon nodded. "But he has a right to know that his queen is a traitor."

"What will we do now?"

"When Robert Baratheon returns from his hunting trip, I will tell him in private. And you are coming with me."


	6. Downfall

When King Robert returned from his hunting trip, he had been blinded by an excess consumption of wine. Although he was famed throughout the kingdom for holding down a drink, Lysa was stunned alongside her husband as they watched his attempt to leap off his horse. The result was a king who fell flat on his face.

"Your Grace," Jon called, rushing to his side. "Let me help you up."

"Ah, nonsense!" Robert blurted out before managing to jump to his feet. "I just had a bit of a fall. Let us go inside!"

Lysa gestured to Jon as the three headed into the Red Keep. The lord responded with a nod and put an arm around the king.

"Robert," he began. "Lady Arryn and I must talk to you. In private."

"Bah!" The king exclaimed, still abnormally excited. "Do we have to? All I want is a nice, long nap."

The couple could not deny that Robert had grown lazy. Despite the Grand Maester's suggestion to lessen the consumption of food and wine, the king had gained two stone. His height helped to conceal the bulge of his belly, but only if he wore armour.

"That is perfect!" Lysa interjected. "You will be needing a rest. Your mind will be sharp upon your awakening."

"Indeed," Jon added. "We will walk you to your chamber. After you have rested, we insist that you meet us in the Tower. It is of utmost importance."

Robert Baratheon slurred a few more words as they ensured his safe arrival in his chamber.

* * *

"What?!"

The king bellowed at Jon, then turned to Lysa who held a face of stone. After waiting half a day for Robert Baratheon's arrival, the lady expected a loud confrontation.

"Please, do not shout, your Grace," Jon begged. "They may hear you."

"Mayhaps I want them to hear!" Robert yelled. "This is an outrage!"

"Robert, do you want Cersei to hear?"

Thankfully, that brought a silence to the room.

"And we would not want Jaime Lannister to hear either," Lysa mentioned. "Those two are always up to something."

Robert turned to the lady, before taking a step towards her.

"Jon said that it was you who discovered this." When she nodded, he continued. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been more sure, your Grace." Lysa stated. "I am very sorry that you have had to learn this now, but we must act on these crimes committed by the queen and her brother."

"And act on it, I will. Cersei has always been cold to me, and now I know why. She parades around the castle like a maiden, yet she whores herself to her brother. I will have them executed immediately!"

"What about the children?" Jon interrupted. "They do not know about this. What will you do with them?"

The question lingered in the air. Robert's fury simmered down, his eyes beginning to flicker about as if looking for an answer. Lysa watched him rub his face, the king trapped in an emotional dilemma.

"I cannot kill them," he concluded. "Myrcella is only a babe."

Jon stood from his desk and gave his chair to Robert. The man sat down, burying his face in his palms. Lysa could only imagine the thoughts that clouded his mind.

"You are very fond of Myrcella," Jon gently discovered. "Do you wish to send her away?"

"No," the king said. "If either of the children need to be sent away, it would be Joffrey. The queen has spoiled him rotten. Worse yet, the boy is a nasty creature. You were not there when he killed that poor cat. He sliced its belly open and showed me its unborn kittens. I hit him, but the queen thought nothing of his repulsive act. She said that if I ever hit him again, she would kill me."

Another pause remained in the Tower. Lysa had known the prince was a spoiled brat, yet the image of a boy disembowelling a pregnant cat curdled her stomach. How a mother would refuse to discipline her child after such an act, the young lady would never know.

"The boy must learn to be humble," Jon declared. "He may be educated, but he is not wise. You must send him to a place where he may be taught courtly matters. I suggest that we send him to Dorne, for not only will he be educated, but further peace will be maintained."

Robert looked up at Jon. Then, he chuckled.

"Ah, Jon!" The king patted him on the shoulder. "How is it that you know everything? _You_ should be king!"

Jon blushed. Before he could respond, Robert continued. "I have to confess, Jon: I never wanted to be king. I would much rather travel across the seas and become a simple sellsword."

"I cannot be king, your Grace. I only have a number of years left. Stannis, however, is next in line to the throne."

"Stannis..." Robert tested the name on his lips. "He is a stubborn man."

"He is serious, but he knows how to lead," Jon paused. "Though the people would not favor him."

The king thought on the matter. Lysa watched his face change as he juggled the good and the bad of leaving his position. Finally, he clapped his hands and stood from the chair.

"I will assemble the council," he declared. "Tonight, every lord and lady will be gathered in the throne room. In the meantime, I will place Cersei and Jaime under arrest!"

* * *

The entire audience stood in shock as the queen and her brother were dragged into the throne room. Rumours had already circulated about the siblings' acts of treason, as Lysa overheard many ladies whispering their thoughts to each other. Cersei held a look of absolute fright, whereas her brother kept calm and composed himself.

As the knights forced them to kneel in front of the Iron Throne, the Lannister twins bowed to the king. Tywin Lannister stood at the front of the crowd, shocked at the event taking place. Joffrey stood next to a septa, as equally stunned as his grandfather. His mouth remained open as he watched his mother and his uncle try to free themselves from their chains.

"Cersei Lannister," Robert announced. "You have been summoned here due to allegations of adultery, treason and _incest_." At that final word, many gasps of disgust were earned from the crowd. "Do you deny these charges?"

Lysa had never seen Cersei so terrified. Her hair hung in a mess despite having only spent a few hours in a cell. Her bones shook as she looked up at the king.

"I do, your Grace." She spoke.

"You deny all three of these charges?" Robert scoffed. "Do you deny that Prince... that Joffrey and Myrcella are the children of Jaime Lannister?"

Joffrey looked at his mother, stunned beyond all belief. Lysa had pleaded with the king to not allow children in the room during the trial, but Robert insisted. _The boy has to learn._ His voice echoed in her mind.

"They are not his children!" She panicked. "I swear, they are not. I swear..."

"Would you care to explain to me why they resemble you and your brother so closely?"

"Please, your Grace. It is a mere coincidence. They just resemble their mother-"

"Silence!" Robert yelled, making half of the crowd jump. "I will now proceed to question Jaime Lannister."

Cersei bowed her head as Jaime raised his. His eyes adamantly met the king's. The man still looked like a formidable soldier, despite being stripped of his shining armour.

"Jaime Lannister," Robert began again. "You have been summoned due to allegations of treason and incest. Do you deny these charges?"

"I deny committing any form of treason," Jaime proudly stated.

Robert raised his eyebrows and rested his chin on his knuckles, determined to question Jaime further. "Do you deny the charge of incest?"

"Your Grace, I love Cersei. I have loved her from the very beginning..."

"Jaime!" Cersei shot a deadly look at her brother. "You do not!"

"I do, Cersei," he declared, then turned to the king. "Your Grace, the Targaryens traditionally marry their siblings. Why can we not-"

"We are _not_ Targaryens!"

"Cersei," Jaime addressed his sister. "Do you not love me?"

"Shut up, Jaime! Shut up!"

The whole crowd became unsettled at the growing confrontation. As many expressed their bewilderment to one another, Robert was forced to call for calm once more.

"Silence!" He yelled. "This trial is still in session."

But Cersei was not finished. "We are _not_ lovers!" She protested. "Robert, for any love you bear me, believe me! Jaime has gone mad!"

The king ignored her. Once the quiet returned, Robert questioned Jaime once more. "Do you deny that Joffrey and Myrcella are the product of you and your sister?"

A pause. "I do not, your Grace."

Another pause. Robert stood from his throne and eyed the young knight.

"Jaime Lannister, I strip you of your white cloak... and I sentence you to die!"

Despite the startled reactions from the audience, Lysa focused entirely on Tywin Lannister. The man had kept a stern face for as long as anyone could remember; now, he collapsed to his knees. His face fell, as if every dream he held was being shattered in front of him.

"Cersei Lannister!" Robert called. "I sentence you to be permanently exiled from King's Landing. You will spend the rest of your days living in shame."

When Cersei protested, the king ordered the guards to drag her out of the room. She begged for leniency and called for her children, but Robert paid her no heed. When it was Jaime's turn to be taken away, he remained silent. To many, his heart had been broken upon the call for his execution, but Lysa saw it break when Cersei denied his love. His body hung limp as the guards pulled him towards the cell.

When the doors slammed, everyone looked back at the king. Robert stood from the throne and eyed the crowd. He looked to his right, then to his left. His sight fell on Joffrey, who had fled from the septa's grasp and rushed to the king.

"Father!" He called.

"I am _not_ your father," Robert declared, bring the boy to a halt. He turned to the audience once more. "Despite these heinous acts of treason, the former Prince Joffrey and his sister, Myrcella are innocent victims. I name the young Myrcella as my ward."

Some people nodded in agreement, others cringed at the notion of keeping a child born of incest. Before another verbal commotion could occur, Joffrey ran closer to the king.

"What about me?!" He burst. "I am the prince! I will stay-"

"Quiet, boy!" Robert yelled. "You are not a prince. You have been spoiled horribly by your parents."

"I AM A PRINCE!" The boy screamed and stomped at the ground.

The king walked over to Joffrey and slapped him across the face. The citizens did not gasp, for the slap was not hard; and many were sick of the boy's screams. Joffrey began to cry.

"I did not raise you to be a cruel, ungrateful fool! As for you, a ship will arrive here in a week's time to take you to Dorne, where you will learn to be a wise and skilful man. As suggested by my advisors, Sandor Clegane will take you to Flea Bottom where you will live for six nights."

"Please, do not let me go there. I do not want to go there..."

"Not a smart boy, are you? I have told you to be quiet many times. You will live like the smallfolk, and you will learn how to survive like one. Sandor, take him away!"

The boy cried even louder as the Hound pulled him away from the throne room. Once the two disappeared, the king dismissed everyone from the court. After a moment, all the men and women responded. Dazed from the day's events, the crowd slowly limped out through the gigantic wooden doors.

Jon and Lysa walked towards Robert Baratheon, but the man insisted on being left alone.


	7. The Attack

The former prince did not cry as the ship sailed for Dorne. Lysa stood alongside the king on the shore as they watched Joffrey silently retreat towards the cabin. Only a handful of people decided to join Robert Baratheon in farewelling the young boy. As far as Lysa knew, nobody would miss Joffrey's presence.

Similar to the week before, a crowd formed in the throne room once again. After returning from the shore, Robert marched towards the Iron Throne and gracefully seated himself.

"My lords and ladies," he addressed. "I have gathered you here today to announce a major change in the small council."

_A change?_ Lysa thought as she stood in the front row of the crowd. She turned to Jon to express her confusion at the sudden meeting; he merely shrugged, apparently as perplexed as she was.

"Despite the scandal that erupted last week, I have thought long and hard about my rule. Although I lack an heir of my own, I have been blessed with trustworthy men and women who have displayed an unwavering loyalty to my reign. They have risked everything to do naught but tell me the truth. Henceforth, I appoint the Lady Lysa Arryn as an advisor to my small council."

Lysa jumped at the mention of her name. Her mouth widened as she looked at the king, then looked to her husband for confirmation. Jon smiled proudly back at her and gave her a gentle push towards the Iron Throne.

An applause followed her as she stepped towards Robert Baratheon. Some even cheered at her appointment. Others shouted their disapproval.

"A woman on the small council?!" Came one shout.

"This is blasphemous!" Came another.

Robert did not appear to be in the mood for arguing. Instead, he took the lady's hand in his and showed her off to the crowd.

"She may not be a man," he stated to the room. "But this person has displayed intelligence and a strong sense of loyalty that many men lack. Lady Arryn, you are now welcome to join all small council meetings from now on."

She bent to her knee and kissed his knuckles. "I will serve you well, your Grace." She promised.

It felt strange being appointed as an advisor, for it was a job that ladies were not normally tasked with. Yet a fire began to flare in her. She was a woman shy of her second decade, but she was already a lady of immense power. The thought brought a determined smile on her face as she silently promised again that she would not fail King's Landing.

* * *

Two days later, Lysa's first council meeting ended. For once, the king was present and he was listening intently to his advisors. Since the expulsion of the former queen, Lysa also noticed that Robert Baratheon was bringing himself back to shape. He drank less wine and stopped organising extravagant feasts. He had also taken up sword-fighting once more.

After working to save the city's dwindling economy, the council separated to their previous duties. Lysa left the room to check on her children, one of whom was sleeping in her nursery. The lady guessed that Minisa and young Robert were outside; Minisa walking alongside her fellow ladies and Robert play-fighting with Sandor Clegane. Elyse was fortunate enough to be allowed to merely sleep and eat.

Once she arrived at the nursery, Lysa peered into the cot that used to belong to her two oldest children. Elyse lay on her side, her eyes gently shut. She was even more beautiful than Minisa had been, but Lysa could never tell her children such trivial things. They were all beautiful in their own way.

As she reached down to squeeze the baby's hand, a shadow passed her. Lysa spun around and was met with a punch. She clutched her face and collapsed to the floor. She pushed herself back up to face a black-hooded man.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

The man pulled out a blade and aimed it at her. "Cersei Lannister sends her regards... to the child."

Lysa gasped and shielded the cot. "Th- the child? Why the child? She has not done anything!"

Then, he lunged at Lysa. She kicked him in the thigh, sending him back, but he still stood. He ran at her again and she raised her hands. The blade slashed her palm.

She yelped in pain and felt a force of anger rising in her. He swung at her again, but she dodged. The man then grabbed her and spun her so her back came into contact with his chest. He raised his blade and aimed for the side of her neck. As she shook and shuddered, she screamed.

Another man appeared. Before she knew it, Lysa was flung to the floor. Her eyes followed the sound of a struggle and she witnessed Jon choking the assassin from the back.

Then she heard the sound of more men shouting. Ser Barristan Selmy appeared at the door, followed by Robert Baratheon. Jon and the assassin had fallen to the ground when the king jumped on top of the intruder. The two men rolled and wrestled until Robert pulled out a dagger of his own and held it to the man's throat.

"Thank the gods I still know how to fight," the king boasted; to whom, nobody knew.

The assassin dropped his weapon and was pulled to his feet. Robert pushed him towards Barristan Selmy, who caught the man and held a dagger to his back. Not needing to be told, the knight dragged the hooded man away.

Lysa had forgotten about her wound until Jon asked if she was hurt. It was fortunate that the cut was not deep, but it began to sting the longer she observed it.

* * *

All of Lysa's belongings were locked in hefty wooden chests. Outside the Red Keep, every servant and maid gathered the children's clothing and placed them at the back of a horse-drawn carriage. The lady ordered Minisa and Robert to sit in the compartment while she held Elyse outside. Jon joined her at the bottom of the steps with a stern but sad look on his face.

"It is for the best, my dear," he said. "King's Landing is not safe for you or the children."

"But it is not safe for you either!" Lysa murmured in protest, trying not to disturb her baby's slumber. "What if they try to kill you too?"

"I have to be here to protect the king and to make sure that Westeros runs smoothly. He needs my advice now, more than ever."

After the assassination attempt, King Robert had his soldiers track down the former queen and bring her back to the city. Cersei was quick to deny any further wrongdoing. Lysa almost burst out laughing at the woman's stupidity, especially after Ser Barristan Selmy found a note hidden in her dress. It listed a few men's names, one of which belonged to the incarcerated assassin.

"We have caught that traitorous woman," said Jon, who had since refrained from using the former queen's name or title. "But in the event that she has one more trick up her sleeve, I would want to be assured of my family's safety. And you will be safe in Winterfell."

Lysa's eyes fell. "I know," she begrudgingly agreed. She had never been to Winterfell before; she did not know what to expect apart from a castle surrounded by snow. "I still cannot believe she would arrange an attack on Elyse; after all, _I_ was the one who discovered her involvement in illicit activities."

"I believe that she wanted revenge after being forced to separate from her children. Her personal motto would be _if you take my children away, I'll take your children away_." Jon continued. "It appears that Cersei's exile will turn into an execution. Robert will be glad to be rid of that beast. Hopefully, he will remarry to a more suitable candidate and produce true heirs of his own. If not, the crown will go to Stannis."

The couple stared at each other for a few moments, silence overtaking the two. Lysa stared into the man's eyes, eyes that have since shrunken under surrounding wrinkles. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her husband. He returned the warm hug, holding her hair and kissing her on the forehead.

He led the lady and her baby to the carriage, bidding each other a final farewell before the carriage took off.


	8. A Year In Winterfell

Although Lysa and her children were forced to live in Winterfell for an indefinite period, the lady still had a job to do.

Before her departure from King's Landing, Robert Baratheon had ordered her to send fortnightly updates on the North's position. He especially wished to know how Lord Stark was faring under changing political circumstances. Lysa was ready to take note of the reactions of the other northern houses.

The children settled in Winterfell immediately, all of them enjoying the prospect of living with their cousins. Lysa also loved the idea of living with her sister again, for nostalgia would overtake them and the two women would giggle about simpler times. Ned had provided her with a large chamber that included a wooden writing desk. The lady wrote constantly, both to the king and to Jon.

A month passed by and Jon had sent an update on Cersei Lannister. Lysa fetched the letter from one of many ravens in Winterfell's rookery and tore it open. The contents sent relief to the young woman.

_Dear Lysa,_ it read.

_It is done. Cersei Lannister's body hangs in front of thousands of citizens. Although Lord Tywin Lannister is still one of the richest men in Westeros, House Lannister is almost no more. Tyrion Lannister is now the sole heir of Casterly Rock._

_I wish to say that no more harm will come to our family, but I cannot be sure. There have been reports of Lord Tywin acting erratically since the death of his golden twins. There is no telling whether he has gone completely mad or if he is planning on doing anything vengeful._

_In the meantime, stay in Winterfell. For how much longer, again, I cannot be sure. I want you to stay safe and to take good care of Minisa, Robert and Elyse. Send my regards to the children._

_Sincerely,_

_Jon._

Lysa walked down to her chambers and produced a thin quill and a sheet of parchment. In her response, she forgave Jon for having her stay at Winterfell for a while longer. If anything, her children were flourishing under the North's conditions. Minisa and Robert were educated alongside Robb. Sansa was old enough to walk while Elyse became more energetic with each passing day.

* * *

By the third month, Jon still wrote to Lysa. The elderly lord still could not guarantee her safety as confusion still reigned in the kingdom. The king was better educated on how to handle the finances, feeding some hungry mouths in the process. Unfortunately, there were still hundreds more in need of food and shelter. In even more unfortunate circumstances, a few noble houses scoffed at his charity, claiming that he was undermining the highest-ranked of families.

It was time for the lady to send an update to King Robert. As she entered her chamber, she found her son sitting at her writing desk.

"Robert," Lysa said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The young boy was holding a quill and scratching a few words on a scrap of parchment. "I am writing to Sandor," Robert claimed cheerfully.

Lysa peered down at his work and smiled at the messy but legible handwriting.

_Dear Sandor,_

_I hope you are well. I miss fiting with you._

_From,_

_Robert Arryn._

"That's very good," Lysa commented. "Just scratch out 'fiting' and spell it again. F-I-G-H-T-I-N-G."

Robert did as he was told and beamed up at his mother. "Can we go up to the ravens?" He asked.

"Of course, my dear."

After walking Robert to the rookery and back, Lysa finally found the time to respond to her king. She sent her son away to play with Robb while she cleaned her desk, which had been untidied by the young boy. Upon dipping the quill into the inkpot, she thought about her choice of words before recording them.

_To His Grace, King Robert Baratheon,_

_I am writing to inform you that the North has remained stagnant as always. Truth be told, the houses of the North are impressed by your efforts to repay the city's debts to the Iron Bank of Braavos. That is, with the exception of House Bolton. They appear to be neutral. The North prospers under your rule._

_As for Lord Stark, he is well as usual. He hopes that your reign will continue to improve the lives of many._

_Regards,_

_Lady Lysa Arryn._

* * *

By the sixth month, Lysa and the children were ready to return home. Unfortunately, an assassination attempt had been made on the king.

Despite some improvements in coin, King Robert still spoiled himself with expensive wines. He had reverted back to his original weight. The king had cut out feasts but dealing with the problems of hundreds of thousands would send him on a drinking binge. During a vulnerable moment, the king swayed in his drunken state while riding through King's Landing. Many had gathered to watch him and his men ride past. Merchants cheered and dirty orphans strayed all over the place. Then out of nowhere, a bony peasant leapt from the crowd and slashed at the king.

Luckily, the man had missed and merely stabbed Robert in the arm. The peasant was arrested immediately and locked up in the cells upon the king's return.

Jon wrote to Lysa a few weeks after that incident, stating that the king had decided to send the man to the Wall. With the council's continual support, Robert quit his drinking habit for good. He promised Jon that he will focus his efforts on making King's Landing great once more.

Minisa would now invade Lysa's room, pleading for a return trip home.

"When are we going home?" The girl moaned.

"I do not know, sweetheart," Lysa said. "We have to stay here a bit longer."

"We have been here for a long time! Why can we not go home?"

"Because your father says it is not safe yet."

"How long will it be... _not safe_ for?"

"For goodness sake, Minisa!" Lysa snapped under her breath. "We have to be patient."

"But I have been patient for months! And I have not seen Father for many moons."

Lysa sighed, understanding the child but being given no choice but to tell the truth. "I am sorry, Nisa. There is nothing that your father and I can do. What we _can_ do is stay safe here in Winterfell. After all, do you still enjoy playing with your cousins?"

"I do sometimes," she replied. "But they are the only people I play with."

"And in another six or seven moons, you will have another cousin to play with."

Minisa's eyes widened in surprise. She took a moment to think on this new information, then she beamed and hugged her mother.

"Aunt Catelyn is having another baby?" She joyously asked.

"Yes!"

"Oh, Mother! Is it going to be a boy or a girl?"

"We do not know yet. We will have to wait until your aunt is due."

Minisa leapt up onto her feet and began to jump around the room. In the moment's excitement, Lysa decided to join in.

* * *

Almost a year after their arrival in Winterfell, Lysa was given the good news.

_Dear Lysa,_ Jon had finally written to her.

_It is time. When you are ready, have your belongings packed and gather the children. King's Landing is now safe._

_The king's recent marriage has brought joy to the city. Lady Janna Tyrell has now become Queen Janna Tyrell. Although there were talks of her betrothal to another man, Robert Baratheon was in need of a wise queen. And she is wise, indeed. It has been three weeks and she openly enjoys being in the king's presence. We must now hope that they will be able to produce heirs. _

_I have missed you so, Lysa. Being the Hand has drained me for the past year. I hope that when you arrive that you will not be mortified by my rapid aging. And I hope the children are stronger and more intelligent than they were before they left. I am looking forward to seeing my wonderful family again._

_With love from,_

_Jon._

Lord Arryn did not need to tell her of his dramatic ageing. His handwriting had become shaky scrawls since the family's departure. Lysa took longer than usual reading his final letter.

The lady rushed from her chamber and tracked down Minisa and Robert. Elyse was being cared for by Septa Mordane. When her two oldest children were gathered, Lysa made a grand announcement.

"Children, we are _finally_ going home."


	9. Six Years Later

Lysa had celebrated her twenty-sixth name day over five moons ago. Today, King's Landing was celebrating Minisa Tully's twelfth name day.

Minisa stood tall for her age, and her dark brown hair had grown past her waist. It would have grown longer if the young lady had not done something silly some years before. Out of curiosity, Minisa wondered how she would appear if she possessed hair as short as her brother's. Somehow, she had acquired a short, sharp blade and sliced her hair up to her shoulders. Lysa had been horrified.

Now, the young mother would look back and laugh at that incident. Lysa wondered why she had been so worried when Minisa's hair grew much faster than hers.

His Grace, Robert Baratheon took great pleasure in hosting a name day feast. The king would spoil the Hand's children on special occasions, and Lysa was grateful that all three of her children maintained their manners.

It had been years ago when the king doubted his ability to rule. In the same week that Catelyn gave birth to her third child, the Greyjoys rebelled. Lord Balon Greyjoy, or the King of the Iron Islands as he named himself, ordered a surprise strike on Lannisport. Tywin Lannister had been killed in the attack, though if the so-called king was smart, he would have known that Lannisport was no loss for the Iron Throne. After all, the Lannisters were no longer friends of Robert Baratheon's.

But no one had seen Tyrion Lannister since.

The Greyjoy Rebellion marked King Robert's return to the battlefield. With more men and superior strategy, the king easily smashed the Greyjoys and declared themselves victorious. Upon his return to King's Landing, Robert confided to Jon that he had never felt more alive.

An hour before the feast, Lysa joined her husband up at the Tower of the Hand. Jon sat feebly on his chair, having aged immensely in the past few years. Nowadays, the Hand's duties unofficially fell to Lysa, who was sorting through piles and piles of parchments.

"Oh, Lysa..." Jon moaned. "I cannot thank you enough for your help. I am an old man on the verge of death."

Lysa kneeled to his side and grasped his bony hands. "Please, do not say such things! You will make me cry."

"I am sorry, my dear. I have become more cynical with each passing year."

"Oh, Jon! I forgive your careless words, but I do not want to hear such drivel again. Our children will not appreciate it either; they love it when you play with them."

"Minisa is too old to play now, and Robert is already an expert swordsman."

"That leaves Elyse."

"I suppose I have a few more years."

The lady smiled and kissed her husband's knuckles. She resumed sorting through the stacks of letters, separating them into sections deemed relevant or irrelevant.

"It will be strange seeing the former prince again," Jon mumbled. "The last time he was here, the king sent him to live in Flea Bottom."

Lysa looked up at the frail lord. "The former prince?"

"You do not know? Oh, my dear, I thought I had told you. The Prince of Dorne is due to arrive soon, to talk with Robert Baratheon and to join the celebration. Young Joffrey will be accompanying him."

The lady wondered what the boy looked like now. Then her thoughts turned to his behaviour. _Is he kind? Courteous? Or is he still the spoiled brat we all remembered him to be?_

Jon scratched his bald head and groaned. "The boy would not be young anymore... I cannot seem to remember how old he is now." Lord Arryn scrunched his eyes as if in agony. His mind was not as strong as it had once been.

"He would have already celebrated his tenth name day," Lysa finished for him. "It would be interesting to see him again."

"Yes, it would." Jon nodded. "Let us hope that Dorne has raised him well."

* * *

Lords, ladies, knights, guards and servants crowded around tables and chairs in the Red Keep. The Prince of Dorne was late for the name day feast, but he had a raven sent to the king beforehand, insisting that King's Landing should begin without him.

At the main table, Robert Baratheon laughed at the joke whispered to him by the queen. As far as the kingdom knew, the two had an especially fond marriage. The king would invite Janna Tyrell to join him on his hunting trips, which she would immediately consent to. The royal couple were unstoppable companions, and they had produced a legitimate son named Rickard.

Rick, as his friends would call him, was seated between his father and his adopted sister, Myrcella. Despite her tarnished status, nobody could truly hate a girl so kind and so witty. The former princess held many friends, noble and smallfolk alike.

On either side of the royal family, sat the Arryns.

Midway through the feast, the door creaked open in its lowest voice. The noise brought all eyes to Prince Oberyn, who gallantly marched across the room. His golden robes skimmed the stone floor, emphasizing his high status. An announcer shouted the visitor's title and his name.

"Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell!" The man shouted over the simmering silence. Then, he shouted another name. "And his young guard, Joffrey Waters!"

Lysa was sure that more attention was given to the second guest than to the first. In walked a boy on the verge of manhood. His hair shone the Lannister blonde as they had all expected and he stood almost as tall as his father had been.

While the Prince of Dorne shook hands with the king, Joffrey shyly stopped behind his master. Robert Baratheon turned to the boy and stared. Slowly, he recognized all of the features that he had seen over seven years ago. Lysa thought he would frown at the boy in disgust, until Joffrey bowed his head.

"Your Grace," he spoke softly.

The king smiled and extended to shake the boy's hand. "Young Joffrey, who would have thought?" He beamed. "You have grown."

It was then that Lysa realized that the main change in Joffrey was that he no longer wore a permanent scowl. As a child, it was all that the boy did whenever he was not around his family. Now, the boy was carrying a spear to protect the nobles of Dorne. Even Robert Baratheon had noticed.

"What is this?" The king smiled. "Your own spear?"

"I guard the prince, your Grace. I have trained for the last five years and have only recently been appointed. But only temporarily, for the actual guard has taken ill."

"Excellent! It is brilliant to see that you have grown into a mature young man."

The former prince blushed, at a loss for words. Prince Oberyn Martell laughed and helped to answer for him.

"I am glad to hear that we have taught him well," he said. "He was a rebellious child, and he still holds a fire in him, but we persisted. Now, he is well-versed in the history of Westeros and shows talent in wielding a spear."

After the king and the prince laughed together, the two visitors from Dorne approached Minisa and bowed to the young lady, bidding her a good name day.

* * *

At the feast's conclusion, Lysa and Jon retreated to their chamber. The elderly lord no longer ate as much as he used to, and had to retire earlier than everyone else. The lady Arryn aided in taking off his shoes and gently placed him down on the bed.

"I resent being so useless," her lord husband moaned. "I cannot even do the simplest of things."

"Oh, it is no trouble, Jon," Lysa replied. "Think of it this way; you will be less busy and you will not have to panic every time there is a deadline."

"But I miss the old ways, Lysa. I am still so used to being busy that I have now become the epitome of boredom. Minisa and Robert do not need me. Only Elyse, and she is usually placed with either you or her septa."

"I am sorry to hear that, my dear. I can take Elyse out of her lesson tomorrow and we can go for a walk; just the three of us."

Jon managed to crack a dry smile and murmured some more. "That would be nice. If only Minisa were to join us... she will be gone soon."

Lysa blanched. "Gone? What are you talking about?"

"She is now old enough to be betrothed. Did you see her at the feast, Lysa? She was staring at Lord Blackwood's boy."

"Lord Tytos Blackwood's son?" Lysa almost gasped in surprise.

"The second one, Lucas. The eldest, Brynden, did not join his father at the feast. He remains in Raventree Hall."

Lysa did not get a chance to properly look at the second son. When she caught a glimpse of him, he appeared to be a young man nearing eighteen. He sported long brown hair and held a slender posture, but the lady could not determine if he was handsome or merely ordinary-looking.

"Did Lucas Blackwood return her stares?" Lysa asked.

"He did look in her direction once. Though I cannot be sure of his expression. He sat at the far end of the hall, so I could not see."

"Did he... look at her for long?" Lysa felt like a young girl again, strangely curious about another person's luck with romance.

"For a moment or two. I believe he was just noticing her presence, just like many other lords and ladies at the feast."

The lady Arryn did not know how to comprehend this information. She knew that sooner or later, Minisa would have the thoughts of a lady. She knew that eventually, Minisa would wish to marry.

_But she does not yet understand what happens between a husband and a wife,_ Lysa thought, and it frightened her. Minisa knew that a man and his wife slept in the same bed, but the topic of fornication could terrify her.

Yet, Lysa knew the concept of bedding around Minisa's age. She had learnt through Petyr, who would tell her in graphic detail about what a man and a woman did when they loved each other. That was before she gave him her maidenhead. On that unexpected thought, perhaps Minisa knew more than she appeared to know.

"I will not have her betrothed to any lord, yet." Lysa raised her voice.

"There is no need for alarm," Jon replied, patting her on the hand. "There have been no suitors yet. And I do not plan on betrothing her to anyone for another two years."

Lysa sighed. "I am glad to hear that, my dear. She deserves more than being thrown into a stranger's arms."

"She deserves more than what her mother had."

Lysa paused. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your father forced you to marry the old man that is me. I knew that it was not what you wanted. You would play the dutiful wife, but I could feel your discomfort and your resentment." Tears began to pool in his eyes. "And I am sorry that you did not get the life you wanted."

He began to sob and lifted his arms to wipe away his tears. Lysa was quick to catch his wrists and gently pin them to the bed.

"Now, you listen, Jon!" She commanded. "Have you been thinking such things since before our marriage? Yes, it is true that I was uncomfortable during the first two years of our marriage, but I never resented you. Never, because I did get the life I wanted. I birthed three children. I have always wanted three children! And you let me go out to places and encourage me to speak my mind, which many husbands would object to. You were not what I had wanted, but you have since become my greatest and my most trusted companion. In fact, _I_ should be sorry that I am not the wife you deserve."

For a moment, the old lord's tears stopped. He looked into his wife's eyes, as if searching for the truth. When he found it, the tears came back. His cheeks flooded and Jon sobbed even harder. Lysa shushed him and held him close.

"Oh..." He moaned. "You should not be sorry. I am a very lucky man. I married the woman I loved, and although she did not want me, she cared for me."

Lysa smiled against his shoulder. "I will always care for you, Jon. I will make sure that you are comfortable and kept in good company."

Indeed the next morning, Lysa took her husband out for a walk. She gently clutched his left hand as they moved through the gardens. On his other hand, young Elyse squeezed at her father's delicate fingers.


	10. Passing

Robert Arryn had barely celebrated his twelfth name day when he watched the Silent Sisters slowly parade around his father's body.

Lysa could not remember the last time the boy had cried, for he held the long-standing resilience of a man. A lump formed in her throat as she watched her only son cry during the ritual. Minisa wrapped an arm around her younger brother, allowing him to bury his face into her shoulder. Elyse was preoccupied in holding onto her mother.

"Father will never come back, will he?" She sobbed.

"Oh, my dear," Lysa whispered. "He will always be in our hearts."

Elyse stared up at her mother. Her expression would have been cold if not for her reddened eyes. "Meaning that he will never come back."

Lysa almost snapped at her youngest daughter, until tears unexpectedly leaked from her eyes. Once she had started, she could not stop. Her strength had disappeared and she began to convulse in a hysterical sorrow.

"Mother..." Elyse tried. "I did not mean that. I am sorry."

Lysa could not give an answer, so she nodded her head instead. Elyse did not say anything more.

The proceedings became a blur after that moment. There was nothing that Lysa wished to remember of her lord husband's passing. She was only aware of the aftermath, when she and her three children walked out of the throne room, accompanied by dozens of other mourners. The king and his queen caught up to the family.

"Lysa," Robert Baratheon whispered. "I did not wish to disturb you during the funeral; but I would like to say that I am very sorry for your loss."

Her throat thickened, and she knew that if she dared to speak, she would become a tearful mess. So, she nodded again.

"If you would like to talk to my husband or I in the near future," Queen Janna Tyrell said, "our door will be open."

The widow bowed her head and murmured in a thanks that not even she could hear. The Arryn family headed up to the family's chambers. As they reached the steps, Lysa was barely aware that Sandor Clegane was walking alongside her son.

"Y'alright, Robert?" He muttered, before correcting himself. "Of course, you're not alright. Sorry for asking."

Lysa noticed that Robert was trying to smile underneath his reddened eyes. "You do not have to be sorry," he said. "I know you were just being nice. I appreciate it, Sandor."

The tall non-ser patted his hand on Robert's shoulder. "Whenever you are ready, you can join me on the shores. It is not a bad place for practising swordplay."

Robert murmured an "alright" and moved towards his siblings. Sandor walked away, leaving Lysa to lead the way up the stairs. She listened to the sound of her children's footsteps, each step being forced across the stone floor.

They reached her chambers and sat on the bed she had once shared with Jon Arryn. Silence pervaded the room. It was an unwelcome visitor, but its presence was inevitable. For an hour or two, they just sat in the middle of the furs, thinking about the man they would never see again.

* * *

The moon turned slowly and the Arryns did their best to move on. Elyse behaved during her embroidery lessons, taking feedback better than any other child. Her manners were never questionable, but the septa noticed less fidgeting in the young girl.

Lysa would walk the corridors and peer into Robert's chambers. Before Jon's passing, Robert wrote to his cousins on a yearly basis. Recently, he had been scribbling letter after letter within a few weeks. His mourning lessened his will to train in sword-fighting, and he seemed to look forward to stowing away to his desk.

"Who are you writing to?" Lysa asked one morning.

"Sansa," he replied. "Robb has been busy as of late."

"I see. How does she fare?"

"She is well. She wishes for us to visit Winterfell again. Uncle Ned does not want to send her here, so she hopes we can return some day."

Lysa should have thought on the matter sooner. The children would benefit from seeing their cousins again. One should never be too far from family, her father had once said.

Ironically, she had not spoken to Lord Tully since her marriage. Parenthood and long distance travelling had made her forget about him. Perhaps she had wanted to forget about him. She could not bear to look her father in the eye after he revealed his plan for an unborn Minisa. The thought of him succeeding turned Lysa's heart to stone.

"And what do you write to her?" Lysa inquired.

"That I wish that I were in Winterfell as well. She asked about my combat training and I told her that I have not been practising as often. Sandor wants me to, but I just do not feel the need. I have written about that as well."

"You will have to train again eventually. Not now, but soon. The men expect your return."

Robert lowered his head. "I would love to see Sansa and Robb again. Arya would be bigger now."

Indeed, she would. The last the Arryns had seen of Arya, she was just a babe. Rumors had since spread of the girl's transformation into a hellion. Lysa chuckled at this rumor.

"And you will meet Bran and Rickon for the first time," Lysa said. "Would you like to go to Winterfell for a short amount of time?"

Robert gave his mother a queer glance, as if he had not heard her correctly. "Can I?" He asked. When Lysa nodded, he did something she had not seen in a long time. He smiled.

"I would love to go to Winterfell," he said.

Lysa smiled back. "Good. How about next week? I will write to your aunt and ask for permission. If she agrees to the visit, which I know she will, I will arrange for our transportation."

"That would be good, Mother. I have missed my cousins."

Lysa crouched next to his seat and wrapped her arms around him. Robert returned her embrace, and for a moment, Lysa thought that she could feel him smiling even harder.

"Right," she stated, releasing him. "I will go and check on your older sister now. I have not seen her since last night."

* * *

She expected to find Minisa in the gardens, only to find nobody there. Lysa frowned and searched her surroundings. The last she had heard, Minisa had left the castle to explore the grounds. Often, the young lady would be found sitting on a stone bench, reading or observing the roses.

But there was no sign of her.

Lysa marched across the grounds, attempting to appear as calm as possible. Her face must have given away her fear, for a few lords and ladies asked her if anything was troubling her.

"I am looking for my daughter," Lysa would say to them.

The usual responses were "I have not seen her," or "I am sure she is near". Both replies were useless to Lysa. If nobody had seen Minisa since the previous night, only the gods would know where she was hiding.

She crossed the perimeter of the Red Keep, looking left and right. She rushed to the shores of Blackwater Bay, but only found Sandor there.

"Sandor," Lysa immediately questioned him. "Have you seen Minisa _anywhere_ since last night?"

The Hound could only give a shrug. "I cannot say I have, my lady." He said.

"Brilliant!" Lysa exclaimed with frustrated sarcasm. "I have been scouring the Red Keep for the last half of an hour and _nobody_ knows where my daughter is!"

Sandor did not twitch as the lady ranted. "Have you tried the Godswood?" He gently suggested.

Lysa blanched. She had not checked the Godswood. However, she could not picture her daughter in that area. Minisa had not set foot in the Godswood for years.

"I will check the Godswood," Lysa sighed. "I hope to the gods that she is there."

"I hope so too, Lady Arryn," Sandor said. "If she is not there, I will alert the king."

"Thank you, Sandor." Lysa thanked, then rushed away.

_She better be in the Godswood._ Lysa's thoughts were in a rage as she bolted to the other side of the castle. _If she is not there..._ The lady could not bear to think that her daughter was missing. If Minisa was not present, Lysa swore that she was going to scream the news to everyone she encountered.

After wasting her energy, Lysa slowed down and halted in front of the Godswood. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. As she slowly regained her breath, she peered at the distant outline of the heart tree. Cautiously, she proceeded through the twig-filled grounds.

As she neared the tree, Lysa fell further into disbelief as she saw no one. Not even the birds were present. The lady nearly fell to her knees to cry when she heard a man's voice.

"My father would approve," said the voice. "But I must ask your mother before I proceed."

"I am sure she would approve." Another voice was present, and it belonged to Lysa's daughter. "If not, I will beg her until she relents."

Lysa walked towards the voices. "Nisa?" She called.

Surely enough, Minisa's head popped out from behind the heart tree. "Mother!" She beamed.

"I have been looking everywhere for you, young lady!" Lysa scolded. "You have worried me to my core! I cannot begin to..."

Lysa's voice trailed off as she saw the mysterious male join Minisa's side. It was none other than Lucas Blackwood.

"You!" Lysa pointed at the young lord.

"Lady Arryn!" He interjected before she could yell any further. "I did not mean to cause you any alarm. I did not realize that Nisa and I had been talking long." The almost-man paused and quickly corrected himself. "Lady Minisa Tully and I, I meant."

"Mother," Minisa said. "I am sorry. I left my chambers on my own accord to speak with Luca- Lord Lucas Blackwood."

They had been long familiar with each other, Lysa knew in that moment. Using each other's names, the close distance of which they stood side by side, and their glances at one another confirmed her suspicions.

"What have you been talking about?" Lysa asked, then looked at Lord Blackwood. "You said that you wanted to ask me something."

The young man stood forwards, fidgeting with his fingers in the process. Lysa could tell that whatever he had to say required a lot of nerve.

"Lady Arryn," the young Blackwood began. "I would like to ask you for your permission... to marry your daughter."

Lysa froze. She did not predict a marriage proposal to Minisa so soon. _How did you not expect this?_ Lysa's inner voice was reprimanding her. Her eldest daughter was nearing fourteen, and Jon had warned her before his death.

The young lord waited for her answer. Lysa wanted to respond with many things, most of which ranged from bewilderment to anger at herself. _She is not a child anymore!_ One half of her yelled. _How could you not know this?_ Lysa's heart began to pound again. The other half of her revolted. _She is still too young._

"No..." was what came out of her mouth.

"Mother?" Minisa inquired, apparently not having heard her.

"No."

Minisa's jaw dropped. Lucas Blackwood bowed his head in defeat. Then, Minisa stepped forward and faced her mother.

"No?" She repeated with an expression of shock. "But... why?"

"You cannot marry!" Lysa objected. "You are too young!"

Minisa looked as though she was about to explode into flames. "Too young?! Mother, you were thirteen when you married father!"

"That is not the point! I will not have this man take you away to some gods-forsaken place!"

Lucas Blackwood opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the now angry Minisa Tully.

"Take me away?!" She exclaimed. "This is not a kidnapping, Mother! Have you forgotten that he lives in Raventree Hall, which is not far from Riverrun? And how long do I have to wait until I become of a suitable age to marry?!"

Before Lysa could yell back, the young Lord Blackwood finally had the chance to speak.

"Lady Arryn," he addressed. "I am not here to take your daughter away."

"Then, what are you here for?" Lysa argued. "If I allow you to marry my daughter, what are the chances that I will ever see her again!" The lady could not control herself. She lost Jon, and now she was losing her firstborn child, the child that gave her a reason to be strong when her father married her to an old man she barely knew.

"I will allow Minisa to see you as often as she wishes." Lucas stated, startling Lysa from her wrath. "I am terribly sorry for my poorly timed proposal; after all, you have just lost your husband. I do not wish to take your daughter away from you."

Lysa searched his eyes for any sign of mischief. He appeared to be sincere, but she could not conclude if was just for show.

"And we need not be married right away," he continued. "I will wait for years if I have to. Please, Lady Arryn, I implore you to rethink on the matter."

Indeed, she took a moment to think of his words. Minisa held a passionate temper when she deemed something to be unfair. More importantly, the Blackwood boy was known for his lack of temper. Lord Tytos Blackwood had once described his second-born son as the wise one. Wise was not a word often used for young, inexperienced men.

Perhaps, Lysa had let her own rage cloud her judgements.

"I will think on the matter," she said to the two nobles, before facing Blackwood. "You claim that you will wait for my daughter?"

"I will if I have to, Lady Arryn. I will do anything."

"Then in a year's hence, if you are still faithful, I will betroth you to my daughter."

The boy's face lit up. "Oh, thank you, my lady! Thank you for giving me a chance. I will treat your daughter well, even if we are not betrothed."

Lysa saw that the young lord breathed a sigh of gratitude. Only an honest man would react the way Lucas Blackwood was reacting. His behavior stunned her for a moment. Not knowing what else to say, she turned to Minisa.

"Nisa, come back with me to the castle," she said. "Lord Blackwood, I bid you farewell."

The redness of Minisa's face had now faded, and she joined her mother's side. As the two women walked away, Minisa turned back just once to wave her suitor farewell.

When Lysa turned back to look at Lucas one more time, she observed him staring longingly after her daughter. The image of him shrunk as Lysa marched further and further away from the heart tree. He held his gaze for the longest time before he disappeared into the surroundings of the Godswood.


	11. A Union

Minisa sought every opportunity to see the Blackwood boy. When her lessons came to their final hour, she would rush down the halls of the Red Keep and flee to the Godswood. The young lady's behaviour was not overlooked by Lysa, who could not help but worry.

_But there is nothing to worry about,_ Lysa thought. Lord Lucas Blackwood had been sincere as far as she knew._ But it could all be an act._ The widowed Arryn took a deep breath from the frosty air in an attempt to steer away from paranoia.

Minisa Tully would run off everyday. During the first few weeks, Lysa would cradle her head in her hands and dread that her daughter may have been up to no good. Soon, it became months after her confrontation with Lucas Blackwood. The worries that had clouded her thoughts turned into feelings of hope. She watched the boy carefully as he strolled around the Red Keep. He lowered his face in shyness as he encountered those he did not know. But whenever Minisa appeared, his face lit up and he greeted her with a smile of familiarity.

After a year, the young lord approached her. Lysa was sitting in the gardens when she heard his gentle steps through the grass. The sun reached its full height, and not a single cloud could be seen.

"Lady Arryn," Lucas Blackwood addressed, before bowing to her.

"Lord Blackwood," she acknowledged.

"This time last year, you said that you would consider betrothing your daughter and I. May I ask your opinion on the matter now?"

Lysa folded her hands in her lap and smiled at the lord. "What do you think I should say?"

"Say whatever you will. I love your daughter and I will never hurt her. I would love nothing more than for you to agree to this betrothal, but I will not force you to do so if it upsets you."

"Then," Lysa paused. "You have my permission to marry Minisa."

Lucas Blackwood froze, then broke out a joyous smile. "I have your permission? Oh, thank you, Lady Arryn! Thank you!"

Lysa rose a hand to silence him. "You may tell Minisa that she is now betrothed."

"Oh, I will! I will tell her now!" The boy ran out of the garden and disappeared around a corner.

Lysa could not help but giggle. She had never met a boy who was so naive, yet so genuine. For a moment, she was grateful. A trustworthy good-son was difficult to come by, but perhaps she was just a picky woman.

* * *

Alas, the betrothal was a long one. Fortunately, Lucas Blackwood was still faithful when Minisa celebrated her seventeenth name day. In fact, her name day coincided with her wedding day.

The entire affair could have competed with the king's first wedding. Thousands of nobles, cooks, merchants and entertainers from far and wide came to King's Landing. Lysa never knew so many strangers were allied with the Blackwoods or the Tullys. Perhaps they wanted to meet the king himself, as Robert Baratheon was rather keen on being in charge of the preparations. It was even possible that half of these people just wanted to attend a noble wedding.

Lysa watched as Lucas Blackwood draped the cloak around her daughter's shoulders. His vows were spoken so passionately that even those who stood at the back of the hall could hear the emotion in his voice. Then it was Minisa's turn to speak.

"With this kiss I pledge my love," she declared, "and take you for my lord and husband."

"With this kiss I pledge my love," Lucas replied, "and take you for my lady and wife."

Before the young Blackwood could move towards his wife, Minisa grabbed his face and mashed her mouth onto his. Lysa gasped in shock, then heard the entire hall laugh and clap with delight. Nobody had ever seen a couple so in love at their wedding. Lucas and Minisa held onto each other for a while before releasing each other. They turned to the crowd and the groom proudly lifted his wife's hand up for everyone to see.

Minisa looked down at her mother and waved. Lysa could not help but smile and wave back. _She is very lucky,_ Lysa thought. _My daughter..._

* * *

After Minisa left for Raventree Hall, the remaining Arryns took another trip to Winterfell. The loss of the eldest child was felt by Robert and Elyse. Lysa believed that having her younger children spend more time with their cousins would help to soothe their sadness. Guarding the family on their journey was Sandor Clegane.

Upon their arrival, Robert greeted Sansa first, for the two had been exchanging many friendly letters since Jon's passing. The young Lady Stark was beginning to look like a woman; she had grown almost as tall as Robb Stark. Lysa chuckled to herself as she slowly realised that despite her own son's health, he could never surpass the eldest Stark children in height.

Ned prepared Winterfell for a huge feast. He was far too accommodating when the Arryns visited, or so Lysa thought. She insisted that the decorations were not necessary as they were family, not royalty. Catelyn then argued that they loved to treat their family like royalty. Lysa could not retort.

During the later stages of the feast, the children stood up and congregated at an empty table in the corner of the hall. Robb, Sansa and Robert had matured, but they still loved to have their own conversations without the presence of older lords and ladies. Aside from the three, the table was filled by Arya, Bran, Rickon and Elyse.

Later again, Sandor Clegane stood from his table and walked towards the door. Before he could leave the room, Robert shouted his name, bringing the big man to a stop.

"Sandor!" Robert called. "Would you like to join us?"

The rest of the children turned to the man in question and silence befell the table. Aside from Elyse, the Starks gasped at the man's appearance. _Oh, no..._ Lysa thought. _They are terrified of him!_

Before Lysa could stand up and intervene, Sansa pointed at the man and smiled.

"So, _you_ are Sandor Clegane?" She asked.

Sandor froze. "Yes," he simply said.

"Robert has told me a lot about you," she beamed. "I am Lady Sansa Stark."

She stood from the table and extended a hand. Lysa looked at Sandor, whose reaction was one of shock. She knew that it was rare of people to acknowledge him; it was even rarer for him to meet a person who smiled at his scars. He hesitated, but he eventually took her hand and shook it.

"Robert has told you a lot about me, eh?" Sandor tried to sound as friendly as possible.

"Well," Robert cut in. "I wrote a little bit about you, whenever I wrote to cousin Sansa." Then, he chuckled and continued with sarcasm in his voice. "I wrote about how terrible you are at swordplay!"

Sandor roared with laughter, unsettling those who could hear. The atmosphere was made livelier when Robert and Sansa joined in.

"He did not write such horrible things about me, did he?" Sandor chortled, looking at Sansa.

"No, just pleasant things!" Sansa insisted between giggles. "Robert would never write such drivel."

Soon, the Starks warmed up to their new friend. He told them that he had planned on heading to his guest chamber for an early night's sleep, but since they insisted on him keeping them company, he sat with the cousins. He entertained them with stories of enemies he had fought, how he swung his sword left and right until he became the victor. Sansa appeared to be the most entertained of the group and stared at the non-ser with bright, curious eyes.

Lysa, who had been seated next to Catelyn, whispered to her sibling.

"Can you believe it?" Lysa leaned into her sister's ear.

"Believe what?" Catelyn replied.

"Our children have grown up so well together." Lysa wanted to mention that Sansa was eyeing Sandor the same way that Catelyn eyed her husband, but thought better of it. Catelyn would never approve of her daughter marrying a Clegane.

"Yes, Lysa." Catelyn said. "They have."

Before Lysa could form a response, Catelyn whispered into her younger sister's ear.

"But the person I am most proud of in this room, is you."

Lysa looked at her sister in surprise. It was rare of the elder Tully sister to acknowledge the achievements of anyone; she would begin conversations on the topic out of politeness, but she never spoke from her heart for fear she would cause offence.

"You defied all odds to raise such well-behaved children. You even defied Father when he tried to take Minisa away from you. I highly doubt that I would ever have done that myself. You are the strongest person I know."

Lysa paused for a instant. The words felt strange to her. Perhaps Catelyn was not reflecting on Lysa's actions at all. But Catelyn never lied to her, so she reached over and embraced her older sister. Nobody in the room noticed her display, but that did not matter. The embrace was a moment for just the two Tully sisters.

"I am so proud of you, Lysa," she said. "I'll never know anybody else like you."


	12. Forgiveness

"Why are we going to Riverrun?"

Lysa did not expect Robert to understand. After all, he had never been to Riverrun, let alone understood its importance to the Arryn family. He knew that Lord Hoster Tully was his mother's father, but as far as he was concerned, he was visiting a stranger.

"Because I believe that it is important for you and Elyse to see your grandfather," Lysa said. "At least, just the once."

"But he is on his deathbed," Robert moaned. "Why is it important for us to see him now, when he has never thought to visit us once?"

_Because I never let him visit. _That thought echoed through Lysa's mind. _Not after what he tried to do._ The thought of Minisa plagued her mind every time she pictured her father. Whenever that occurred, all she wanted was to never see him again.

The carriage that Lysa and her two youngest children sat in travelled at a bumbling pace. Not a single rock was felt underneath the wheels, promoting a slow and steady ride. Elyse lay asleep across Lysa's lap, while Robert stared at her from the opposite side.

"I have done many things that I should have reconsidered," Lysa confessed. "Your grandfather wrote to me many times since your older sister was born. I did not reply to any of them, for I felt nothing but hatred for Lord Tully. In fact, I did not know that I had held this resentment for so long, until recently. I believe now is the time to forgive my father, and for you to know him, even if for a little while."

"He wrote?" Robert inquired. "I thought you said he never wanted to hear from us again."

Lysa sighed. She never thought she would be forced to say her next two words.

"I lied."

The carriage became quiet. Robert looked at her for a while before turning his head. Lysa recalled the first time Lord Tully had sent her a raven. Minisa was just a babe, and Jon had aided in her legitimisation.

_To my dear Lysa,_

_I have received news of your child. Jon has convinced me to let your daughter live her life as a Tully. For the sake of you and the child's wellbeing, I have consented._

_You will be happy with Jon. He will treat you and the child well. I hope that you see that every decision I made was for your safety._

_Keep me informed on how you and your family fare._

_With love,_

_Your father._

The fifth letter Lord Hoster Tully had sent was when Robert had celebrated his third name day. Lysa had not bothered to reply to the previous four, for she had more crucial matters to attend to. Her father's writing gradually became scrawled.

_To my dearest Lysa,_

_I heard that Robert had become a budding young warrior and that another child is on the way. I implore you to come and visit Riverrun so I can see you and the children. I am sure that Jon will allow you to take a short trip._

_Please write back to me, Lysa. I am still sorry about my past actions. I did not have the sense to think of any other option. I hope that you will forgive me._

_With great love,_

_Your father._

The twelfth letter he had sent was indecipherable. It appeared as if a child had taken over the old lord's body and written for him. Lysa had to read through the page three times before she could recognise all of the words.

_To my beloved daughter Lysa,_

_Come and stay here in Riverrun. King's Landing is not safe for you. There may be more assassins. Jon has told me so._

_You can come and stay in your old chambers. You do not have to forgive me. I just want to know that you are safe. Please think on the matter, Lysa. I could not bear it if you are in any more danger._

_I am sorry._

_Always with love,_

_Your father._

The last letter he had sent, Lysa had finally replied to. It was no longer in Lord Tully's writing. A sturdier hand had written the letter for him. The words were neat and perfectly aligned for accurate reading.

_To my youngest daughter Lysa,_

_I do not have long now. I am no longer the lord I used to be. I am merely an old man in desperation._

_I cannot bear for you to hate me, but if I see you at least one more time, I will be at peace. I am very sorry, Lysa. Everything I did was for you. Please understand that. Please come and see me. I would love nothing more than to see my youngest daughter again._

_With all the love I can give,_

_Your father._

Upon the family's arrival in Riverrun, a tall guard welcomed Lysa and her children. He instructed the servants to carry their belongings up to the lady's former chambers and gestured for the Arryns to follow him.

"Lord Tully is glad that you are here," the guard told Lysa. "We must hurry, my lady. He is in ill health."

The four of them rushed up the steps and entered the castle. Lysa and the children followed the guard up the spiral staircase that led to her father's solar. She had not set foot in the castle for years, yet running up the stairway brought back many memories from her younger self. She and her sister were once reprimanded for their unladylike manners as they raced each other up and down the keep.

The door came near and the guard came to a halt. He knocked on its ancient wooden structure and waited for a response. A maester wedged the door open and gasped upon seeing Lysa.

"My lady," he whispered. "It has been too long."

It honestly had. She could not even remember the maester's name. Nonetheless, he let the group in and reminded them to speak quietly in Lord Tully's solar.

In the middle of the solar stood a bed. In the bed was an aged man that Lysa did not recognise at first. Once her eyes pushed past his wrinkles and his stick-like bones, she saw her father struggling to keep himself awake. She rushed to his bedside.

"Father," she said.

The man's eyes slowly opened. He took a moment to adjust to the brightness of the room, but his recognition of her was unmistakable. Lord Hoster Tully began to cry.

"Forgive me..." He sobbed. "Forgive me..."

Lysa shushed him. "I do, Father." She said, patting his hand. "It is alright now."

"I had to send him away... That boy..."

She knew who _that boy_ was. "And you were right to. Petyr was not a good man. I did not see it then."

Lord Tully peeked past his daughter and noticed his two grandchildren staring back at him. Lysa turned to them before looking back at her father.

"I brought Robert and Elyse here to see you," she whispered.

The old man took a deep breath. "Strong..." he said. "They are... strong."

Lysa chuckled and nodded. "Yes, they are. They have grown very strong, Father."

She had barely noticed that Lord Tully broke into a momentary smile. As soon as he smiled however, his grip loosened on Lysa's hand. He struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Lysa..." He tried.

"Rest now, Father. You are tired."

Surely enough, he took his last breath and not another movement was made.

Robert and Elyse held onto their mother as she cried. Lord Hoster Tully had carried decades of regret. Lysa did not know why she had taken so long to forgive the man, but she was thankful that she was present during his final moment.

He was right to marry her to Jon, Lysa knew. Who else would have taken her after she had being impregnated by a minor lordling? Without Jon, Robert and Elyse would never have come into this world. It was a peculiar irony, Lysa thought. The man that she did not want to marry became her closest ally.

Lord Hoster Tully's body was sent down the river on a modestly beautiful boat. A flaming arrow shot through the air and landed perfectly in its wooden interior, setting the boat alight. Lysa stared into the distance and silently bid farewell to her father, who slowly disappeared downriver.


End file.
